


above the silent snow

by pastelpetals



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Gender-Neutral Summoner | Eclat | Kiran, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 02:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14843874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelpetals/pseuds/pastelpetals
Summary: Home.The word resonates in their mind again, asininely loud in the hollowness of the promise.





	above the silent snow

**Author's Note:**

> alternative title: i really should stop writing at 2am  
> anyway, here’s a little self-indulgent comfort piece that’s been sitting in my drives for eons.

The smell of scorched flesh nearly forces Kiran to vomit. Holding a hand over their mouth, they stumble, only to be caught by Sharena, the distressed princess curling a protective arm around their shoulders. It’s been a little over a year, Kiran thinks, and while the violence and bloodshed is nothing new, they could never grow accustomed to the aftermath.  
  
Made worse by the snow is the boiling blood, almost viscous, like lava, as it crawls along the ground. Surtr seems to almost revel in the sight, guttural laughter filling the ashy air, while the antithesis of it only serves to make Kiran’s stomach churn viciously.  
  
It is a sign they are too late.  
                            

* * *

  
  
Once they had made camp, Fjorm immediately excused herself to her tent. Sharena had begun to pursue her, but Alfonse held her back, murmuring quietly to his sister. He himself cast a sorrowfully morose look at the ice princess’s back. Kiran observed as the Askr siblings parted ways, Alfonse to Anna and Sharena to them.  
  
“Hi, Kiran,” Sharena greets, her smile tired. Her eyes are rimmed with red, and coupled with the heavy bags under her eyes, she looks haggard, nothing like her usual sprightly self. She gently shoos Kiran to the side to allow herself some room on the log, to which Kiran gladly obliges. Imparting a weak smile, they place their head on the princess’s proffered shoulder. They both sit in silence, staring at the fire before them. It is a small comfort in Nifl’s tundra, and while the Askran trio had adapted quite quickly to it, Kiran still couldn’t quite shake off the deep, pervasive ache in their bones, the chill that consistently blanketed their skin.  
  
Across the way, Alfonse nods with a furrowed brow as he engages in a discussion with Anna, sotto voce. A few times, the pair glance apprehensively in their direction, and Kiran bows their head, drawing their hood further to hide their expression. Sharena, noticing this, tugs them closer. “To conserve body heat,” she says, beaming softly. Despite the helpless countenance that she has borne more often as of late, her eyes have always remained patient, understanding, genial. Grateful for at least that constant, Kiran can’t help the affection that surges through their chest. It warms them better than any fire could.  
  
“Thank you, Sharena,” they whisper, voice thick with emotion. In response, the princess nudges them fondly, her smile softened into something tender.  
  
Seemingly having wrapped up their conversation, the prince and commander seat themselves opposite the fire. Alfonse clears his throat, poised to speak, but neglects to actually deliver his piece, allowing the subdued bustling of camp to fill the silence.  
  
“Well?” Anna prompts, a bit dryly.  
  
Alfonse leans forward, hands clasped, before clearing his throat again. “W-Well...erm, met, Kiran. How are you feeling?”  
  
Sharena bestows upon her brother an incredulous expression.  
  
Wincing, Alfonse quickly corrects himself. “Ah, I suppose the word ‘faring’ is more appropriate. My apologies.”  
  
Swallowing, Kiran feels childish as they bow their head lower and squeeze their eyes shut. “P-Peace, Prince Alfonse. Rather, forgive me. I’m afraid I’m still f-finding my b-bearings.”  
  
Flashes of Gunnthrá sear themselves behind their closed eyelids: her charred, desecrated body juxtaposed with fragments of a smile that oftentimes reminded them of family, of home. Before, home had been their own world and their memories of it, but now it was found in Anna’s quiet concern after a particularly grueling battle, Sharena’s infectious laughter as she conversed with everyone, Alfonse’s kind smile and kinder companionship.  
  
And while it lasted, home had also been the dreams that connected them to Gunnthrá. Her gentle wisdom and intrinsically doting nature both served as buffers from the nightmares plaguing them since their arrival in Askr, and they distantly wondered if their slumber would ever be peaceful again, now that they were only left with her fatal moments. It was as if someone had taken a photograph of her and dipped it in candlelight, watching as her gentle visage was slowly consumed, the memory of her smile superimposed on the encroaching darkness.  
  
Those dreams, that home, was gone.  
  
Kiran’s gaze catches on Fjorm’s tent, Leiptr’s silhouette a sharp contrast against the dimly-lit canvas. Its wielder is nowhere to be seen, but Kiran’s heart sinks all the same.  
  
For Fjorm, Gunnthrá herself _was_ home. As her older sister, she was someone who had cared for Fjorm her entire life, a mentor the younger princess obviously adored and in many ways sought to emulate. For the past weeks, Gunnthrá seemed to be the sole purpose behind Fjorm’s willpower, evident in the way her grip would tighten and her eyes would narrow in determination whenever her sister’s name was uttered. In their conversations, when an opportunity would present itself, she would always laud her elder sibling’s wisdom and genteelness with a wistful expression in place, her smile nostalgic and yearning and very much reminiscent of said sibling. Kiran never minded indulging her, eager to learn more about the ice princess herself as well as the enigmatic character in their dreams.  
  
“She would always console me, even while I fretted over the silliest things,” Fjorm had laughed, once. “Sooner or later, her mere presence was reassurance enough. She never needed words to tell me how much she....how proud she was of me. Or how she would never be far if I looked for her.” At that, she sobered, casting her gaze to the fallen snow. With a deep exhale, she turned towards Kiran, a decided air about her. Her smile became more firm and convinced, her turquoise eyes brighter. “And she has never led me to believe otherwise. Commander Anna mentioned my sister is only a few days’ march away. We will find her, and we can finally be together again. We will bring her home, Kiran.”  
  
_Home._ The word resonates in their mind again, asininely loud in the hollowness of the promise.  
  
“Kiran,” Alfonse interrupts, but his voice is concerned, cautious. “Perhaps you should rest. You’ve been staring blankly ahead this entire time.”  
  
_Go now. Follow the light... I am so glad we were able to meet at last..._  
  
The glow from Fjorm’s tent is now absent, the lack of it as biting as the cold.  
  
“I-I’m alright,” Kiran responds, but their voice is quiet, tapering like the embers in the fire-pit. “But yes, I think I’ll go back now.”  
  
That night, by the grace of the gods, they do not dream.

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: i took some liberties with fjorm and guunthra’s relationship bc it’s not really established in depth (trust me, i spent nearly half an hour playing through the stages trying to pin down every fjorm and guunthra dialogue there was) 
> 
> thanks for reading!!


End file.
